


Guidance

by Webtrinsic



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Monster Falls (Gravity Falls), Bill Cipher is a Jerk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gargoyle Mabel Pines, Gargoyle Stan Pines, Guilt, Hurt Dipper Pines, Past Child Neglect, Protective Ford Pines, Protective Stan Pines, Sphinx Dipper Pines, Sphinx Ford Pines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: Dipper wasn't one who looked after himself too carefully, and Ford quickly figures out there's a reason for it. Something he'll have to rectify himself, and he knows there won't be any complaints from Dipper.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Ford Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines
Comments: 12
Kudos: 133





	Guidance

**Author's Note:**

> honestly never thought id post anything in this fandom, but i saw the fan art and was like man i at least need to do this cause the idea stuck in my head, and i hadn't ever expected to post it but i realized if i post it by the time i finish my writing folder ill have two hundred stories on my account so I'm saying screw it heres some gravity falls

The young cub rumbled with a yawn, wings stretching out over his bed and tangling in the sweaty sheets. Mabel’s clawed feet tapped against the floorboards. The wood worn down from gnarly talons and his own feline claws. His gargoyle twin giggled, causing him to wake further.

“Aww Dipper! Your feathers are stuck in my sweater,” The gargoyle complained, the sphinx growled in annoyance at the comment, rebuking quickly. 

“If you didn’t always pull them out, they wouldn’t be everywhere!”

“My wings don’t have feathers. You can’t ask me not to pull on them, your fur too!” Mabel argued as if she was the one suffering. Shaking his head, the sphinx padded out of bed. His paws moving to his mouth, slowly licking the biggest pad and running it over the shorter patches of fur on his body.

Mabel really did have the tendency to grab at him. He wasn’t one for grooming, and as much as Mabel liked to think she was, she wasn’t. The small torn patches of fur were enough to make him self-conscious enough to at least try to make himself presentable, it still wasn’t enough to qualify as grooming though.

His fur began to knot in spots, mainly at the junctions of his legs and arms. Clumps were even falling out, not always painfully, but the pulling of the knots on his irritated skin had him biting his tongue.

Sphinx's weren’t common, their ancient nature leaving them rare, and in a family filled with stony and rough skin; they weren’t well versed in the fur and wing maintenance he needed. 

At the start of the summer, Grunkle Stan had offered once to groom him. He’d denied immediately knowing how Mabel’s own claws felt, and he could only assume the older gargoyles would feel worse.

Not to mention the man had been a mystery, how was he to know if it was a prank or not? Also he hadn’t known of his great uncle Ford then, he had every right to question if Stan knew what he was doing. But now he knew it was likely his grunkle that had helped groomed Ford when they were younger. 

Even if he had known, he likely wouldn’t have said yes. His pride getting in the way of the help he needed, as it always did.

Normally when he needed help with anything, he didn’t have to ask. Mabel would always know or insist even if at the time he didn’t really need it. The tendency was a bit annoying at times, suffocating.

Their personalities crashed in the same way they supported each other, violently. He was someone who needed alone time. Mabel didn’t always understand that, so much so Dipper couldn’t help but worry that she was incapable of it.

Brushing his anxiety to the back of his mind, the sphinx’s attention turned to his rumbling stomach. His hunger moving his feet out of the room for him, Mabel flying down the steps ahead of him, also prompted by the need to eat.

His movements were slow due to the pain of his strides causing his knotted hair to pull at his skin. A hiss barely smothered itself behind his clenched fangs, although his sister didn’t seem to notice which he was grateful for.

Slugging into the kitchen with nowhere near as much vigor as his sister, they called out in unison a proper, “Good morning!” To both Ford and Stan. The two older twins smiled in turn, Ford folding up his newspaper and Stan flipping another pancake. 

The six toed sphinx’s nose twitched in the air, a familiar rusty tang putting him on alert. Stan piled two plates into the younger twins hands, each grabbing toward the stacked plate of pancakes on the table.

Steely eyes watched Dipper as he ate, Ford absolutely sure the smell of blood was wafting off his great nephew. He didn’t seem exactly distressed, but by taking another look, Ford could tell there was a bloody broken feather nestled deep and folded against the boy’s side. 

Dipper had just finished his pancakes and painfully slipped off of his chair before Ford spoke up, “Mason.” Everything in the room stopped. His real name was almost never said out loud by anybody, yes, he’d told Ford his name but the man had yet to actually use it.

Afraid of the implications that came along with someone saying your name rather seriously, the preteen turned back to face the author. Mabel and Grunkle Stan seemingly just as confused and anxious at the development.

Tucking his wings even tighter to himself, his hurt feather ached. The older sphinx jumped down from his chair, either oblivious to the room's tension or simply ignoring it.

“Sixer, you’re killing us here,” the older gargoyle complained, Ford rolled his eyes as if the answer was obvious and his twin didn’t need to ask. The kids fur was a mess!

“He needs to be groomed, and his feathers need to be preened,” Ford’s teeth clamped onto the soft skin on the back of the boy’s neck, lifting him up while Dipper’s body instinctively curled up to accommodate to being carried.

Taking them through the gift shop and to the vending machine, Ford held the boy during the elevator ride down to the second floor. Dipper wondered if the man had lied, it would have been easier to bring him back to his room or the restroom, not his study.

Ford set the smaller sphinx down, nosing at his sides until Dipper lifted his wings properly for the man to inspect. The bloody and broken feather brushed against the man’s nose causing him to wince and the older sphinx to make noise in what seemed to be confirmation.

The six toed sphinx managed to take a peek at his knotted and torn away pieces of fur, a growl turned roar leaving his lips as he took in the dead skin. No fur could even grow back in these spots, not until the skin was rejuvenated. The action led the boy to try to lower his wings in shame, a chuffing tut having him flinch.

“Keep your wings up my boy, I’ll have that feather out in a moment but you must keep still,” The older sphinx grabbed what appeared to be tweezers and a few towels. Dipper nodded, unable to find his voice as he struggled to keep his wings out in a perfect pose.

The situation was odd, the only thing Dipper could see as a plus was his Grunkle Ford knew what he was doing.

“Didn’t your parents teach you the importance of grooming?” Ford couldn’t help but ask as clumps of fur fell onto the worn carpeting. Ashamed, Dipper shook his head again, noticeably shaking but making an effort to keep his wings straight.

“Did they at least take you to get groomed?” Ford persisted, not wanting to imagine the boy in this uncomfortable state all the time. It was understandable here in the woods his fur would tangle and his feathers would become askew, but all the time?

Dipper couldn’t help but notice how his grunkles voice sounded more and more upset, and felt guilty for shaking his head, especially because before he could dip back up to look at the man he growled.

Dipper couldn’t make out any of the curses being muttered under his breath as Ford picked up the tweezers and maneuvered them around the broken feather. Groaning in pain, the feather was torn from his wing in a careful but efficient swipe. The relief took place immediately.

A sharp claw straightened the rest of his feathers, quickly moving to his fur to brush away all the tufts stuck to the dead skin that no longer had any real purpose. 

“I’m assuming your sister doesn’t help as much as she thinks she does with the grooming,” Dipper couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped at the comment, it choking off as a grizzled tongue began to sweep along his dead skin. 

“When she’s not trying to tear it out with a comb, she’s grabbing and pulling it out,” Dipper sighed with an exhausted and melancholy laughter. Relaxing further and further against the floor as his great uncle's prickled tongue soothed the burning sensation of his fur falling away.

“Stanley used to tug at my feathers too,” Ford chuckled, Dipper humming at the uncommon reminiscing, at least the fond kind. “But not to worry my boy, I’ll make sure you know how to groom yourself properly,”

Dipper couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips, always giddy at the prospect of his mentor teaching him something new, even if it was something as simple as grooming. 

“Thank you Grunkle Ford,” The words were a mere whisper, but the older sphinx didn’t miss it.

“It’s no problem my boy,” Dipper felt warm at the sincerity in the man’s tone. His eyelids tugging, feet going numb as he began to sway. The only thing keeping him awake was his uncle's reserved anger.

“Mason, I think the best course of action would be applying some salve, and wrapping it with gauze,” Dipper wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being trapped in gauze but his skin and wings were still speckled with blood and he was too tired to argue.

Large paws doused in ointment were gently run across his body and wings, thick bandages then being firmly wrapped over the numbing expanses. His small head coming closer and closer to the floor, only coming back up for a shirt to be properly fitted over his dressings. 

The druggery of the session had a yawn breaching the younger sphinx’s mouth. The mythical creature’s swaying ceasing as Ford’s tall frame crowded closer, teeth once again planting themselves against the boy’s small nape and lifting him off the ground while he slept.

The swaying of each step Ford took worked as a pendulum, burying the cub further and further in the dark; the loudest of roars unlikely to wake him. Ford felt as the smaller body grew slacker in sleep, barely weighing him down.

Sleep did little to actually affect the boy’s weight, Dipper still seemed to weigh next to none unlike his sister who was heavier due to her species. Sphinxes were large, light on their feet for flight and thick skinned for defense. Dipper was still oddly lighter than a healthy Sphinx, Ford wanted to pass it off on his age, but the evidence in front of him didn’t quite agree.

He knew how hard it was growing up as a rare ancient species. His own parents only helped him through it because he was academically promising. His grand nephew didn’t seem to have even that. Luckily like himself, he had a twin to help, even when they didn’t really know what they were doing. Of course, Stanley had learned over time but Ford had a feeling Mabel would figure it out soon enough.

If not, that was okay, he vowed to guide the young cub. Mentor him, it was his duty to fill in the gaps his parents had left.

“Dip-what?” Mabel questioned as she bumped into them in the hall, her voice having softened as she noticed her sleeping brother covered in bandages. Ford couldn’t explain her brother's predicament without dropping him, so he decided to give an affectionate pat to the gargoyles head and his best smile.

The plan was to put the cub to bed, but Ford decided against it when he realized the boy’s bed must be a mess of blood and grease that wouldn’t help his condition. Turning down the hall and passing his own alarmed twin, he entered his own room.

The two gargoyles crowded the doorway as he placed the boy down on the couch and covered him with the baby blue blanket sprawled along the back.

“What’d you do to him poindexter?” 

“Groomed him, he was in dire need of it. It’s very easy to see why the session would leave him exhausted,” 

Tentatively Mabel stepped in the room, her eyes wide as she peered at her brother before looking to her studious great uncle. 

“Why in here?” she couldn’t help but ask, tempted to jump up onto the couch too. Both gargoyles waited for an answer as Ford stepped passed them and headed back up the stairs.

“His bed isn’t clean, his sheet’s need to be washed before he lays back down,” Ford then explained, approaching the boy’s bed, pawing off the blankets and sheets. Ford wasn’t surprised to see them spotted with blood, Stanley and Mabel on the other hand gasped.

Ford wouldn’t say outloud how hurt he was that his nephew hadn’t come to him for help, but he understood the boy’s reasoning even when it was misguided. 

“That dumb-dumb, why didn’t he tell us he was hurt?” Mabel cried out in alarm, her eyes teary. Stanley was quick to pull the young gargoyle close, making Ford worried on how he’d explain she needs to be less rough with her brother without hurting her feelings.

Hopefully Stanley could be the bearer of bad news, “That idiot, I offered to groom him before but he wouldn’t let me,” The gargoyle grumbled. Ford really couldn’t blame the boy for saying no, especially with the state of his brother's talons. They hadn’t been appealing when he was younger either.

“I know your brother has a thing about hygiene, but didn’t your parents at least try to remind him to try and groom himself?” Mabel shook her head, her face twisting into a frown, realization in her eyes.

“Mom and dad spent most of the time with me, they didn’t really know how to raise Dipper since he wasn’t like the rest of us,” Mabel grimaced at the two older twins frowns. “I tried to help but Dipper mostly did everything himself,”

Ford nearly tore the fabric in his hands apart, leading him to roughly shove them in the washer so he didn’t damage the thin sheets any further. His claws had further damaged the stairs in his anger, Stanley taking notice as sharp splinters tried to embed themselves in his thick skin.

He had half a mind to cover the steps in a layer of concrete, but he was sure poindexter would come up with something better. Then again he was a cat who made himself a house out of wood, if he’d been around he’d have just bought the guy a scratching post.

The more claws came to mind, the more Stan thought about them, the more he remembered picking broken pieces of feline claws from the furniture. They’d need to check the boy’s claws too, if they were breaking that easily they probably weren’t healthy.

Ford would have to give his input on claw care, “Hey sixer, maybe check his claws while you’re doing your makeover or whatever,” the older gargoyle grabbed some sheets out of the closet for the boy, hurrying up the stairs to fit the kid's bed while sixer went off the inspect the sleeping cat's claws.

Mabel watched the scene helplessly, dragging herself to the giftshop to distract herself from what had just happened since she couldn’t confine herself to sweatertown without drawing attention.

* * *

Ford shifted tirelessly through his things until he found the vile he’d concocted years ago, pouring the contents into a bowl, Ford dipped the boy’s front paws in and watched proudly as the nails visibly strengthened. After came his back paws which reacted beautifully once again, the cub hadn’t even flinched once.

Doing one last lookover, the inventor startled when he noticed some very peculiar scars on the boy. Pronged marks that Ford could only conclude came from a fork, why on earth would Dipper have such a mark?

A shimmer from the golden cover of journal number one blinded his peripheral, the solution clear. He had yet to fully check over journal three, the answer was likely written there.  Exciting his room the six toed Sphinx sniffed out his grand niece, who’s glowing eyes did nothing to hide her upset.  Running a soothing paw over her head the young girl eagerly fell into his touch.

“He’ll be alright mabel, he’s rather resilient and I think you know that best,” Ford assured, letting her cuddle into his chest.

“On another note, would you happen to know where Journal three is?” It seemed to be the wrong thing to ask because his sweater clad niece’s nails curled into his fur and coat, head hesitantly shaking no.

“I don’t know, Dipper stopped telling me where he puts it since I almost, accidentally, gave it to Bill,” she explained softly, her heart weeping. A contrast to Ford because he was almost sure his own heart stopped when that name left her lips.

They’d fought Bill? He’d gone after the journal? Mabel was a smart girl, it didn’t make sense for her to just give anyone the book, especially Bill, had he tried to trick…Realization dawned on the sphinx all too clearly then, someone must have made a deal with Bill, letting them use their body.

Someone the kids trusted enough to get close, and Ford prayed to a plethora of different gods that it wasn’t Dipper. The scars were enough to allude to it being him, and Ford struggled to determine which would be worse, Dipper being scarred by his own hands or by someone elses who he trusted.

He shouldn’t have been scarred at all.

Rather than getting the book, Ford knew for now he’d settle for a short answer, one that would cover all bases until he could fight Bill again.

“Did he possess Dipper?”

Mabel didn’t hesitate in her answer.

“Yes,”

**Author's Note:**

> snap: allisonw1122  
> tumblr/twitter: webtrinsic1122  
> insta: webtrinsic


End file.
